


Domesticity

by SerChristoph



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Romance, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 18:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18078473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerChristoph/pseuds/SerChristoph
Summary: Nine words, nine snippets of life. A domesticity fit just for the wasteland. Cait x FSole Survivor.





	Domesticity

**Domesticity**

**Steel**

Cait knew it was a tad bizarre, maybe even a bit creepy. Still she couldn’t help herself from marvelling at the difference in size between her and Fiona. It just seemed to happen whenever they were in bed together, particularly when the Sole Survivor happened to lay asleep on top of the Irish lass as she was seemingly inclined to do.

The slight blonde was only a few inches shorter than the redhead, nothing unusual there. No, it was the difference in build that was so striking.

It wasn’t that Cait was fat or anything, God knows she had barely an ounce of excess weight on her. Built from a life of bitter effort, Cait’s frame was one of brute strength. But where Cait had thick, toned muscle, Fiona had sleek, slim curves.

_And very nice ones at that_ , the brawler thought idly with a smirk, giving said curves a lengthy appreciation.

Fiona idly murmured in her sleep and shuffled on top of the brawler, the redhead leisurely stroked the platinum blonde’s bare back, earning her a contented sigh.

No, it was the difference in … well, girth that struck Cait. And again she was very quick to remind herself that no, she was not fat.

She held up a pale hand gently with her own rough, darker one, careful not to wake the blonde. She put her own hand up to it, palm to palm. Once again, hers seemed to dwarf the other. The paler hand seemed so dainty and fragile, like it would break at the first sign of stress.

Yet Cait knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

She’d witnessed first-hand the lengths Fiona had gone to, to survive out in the Commonwealth. No longer a dutiful pre-war housewife, the blonde had thrived in the kill or be killed world she’d found herself in. She’d travelled the length and breadth of the Commonwealth and fought and defeated countless foes.

She’d even somehow found the strength to help Cait get a grip on her own life, when the brawler could barely stand on her own two feet.

Maybe that was what amazed her about the slighter woman so much. Despite appearances, these hands weren’t weak at all.

They were steel.

It wasn’t that Fiona was particularly strong, not physically at least. The blonde wouldn’t last a single round against the redhead in a brawl. No, it was all her endurance, her desire and her seemingly endless drive to move forward no matter what.

Cait noted a few small callouses had found their way onto those pale hands. Rewards for all that hard work no doubt, she thought with a small smile. Fiona had put so much effort into building a new life for herself, it was satisfying to know that it wasn’t in vain. At least, that’s what Cait felt. She hoped the blonde felt the same way.

Another soft murmur, a blonde head rose gradually from Cait’s chest and a pair of blinking, steely grey eyes came into view.

“Morning.” Cait drawled with an easy smirk.

Fiona merely murmured with a lazy smile in response and curled up closer to the redhead, resting her head on a strong shoulder. Those delicate looking hands retrieved themselves from Cait’s grasp and pulled at the taller woman’s arms, bringing them to envelope round the blonde.

Cait smiled and readily obliged, hugging the other woman close. When Cait’s hands started to wander, Fiona merely regarded the redhead with a glinting scowl, upturned lips betraying her. She reached up and grasped the brawler’s head by the cheeks, bringing her down for a kiss.

As their contact built up in intensity, Fiona pushed off the brawler’s strong arms and held them above Cait’s head. Though she could have easily thrown her off, Cait happily obliged her with a grin, gazing eagerly into those piercing silver eyes that sparkled through platinum locks. Those eyes pinned her there, with a force and passion that Cait loved about the other woman.

All steel she was, layered in velvet or even silk, but steel to the core.

**Itch**

Fiona scrunched up the right side of her face as she scratched at the irritation on the left. She knew that it probably wasn’t good for her, not that she could cause any more damage. The blonde tilted her head to various angles as she examined her scars in a grubby mirror. The lines of deep scars that had burrowed up and across her face were as bold as ever, a souvenir from her early days in the post-apocalyptic Commonwealth.

She remembered the episode well, having to go toe-to-toe with a Deathclaw in order to protect Preston and his charges. Fiona’s gun had jammed, and the Deathclaw had seized upon the opportunity to smash the helmet of her power armour into the concrete floor, with her head still inside. She’d survived, obviously, but the encounter had left its mark clear as day. She’d never been more injured before or since.

Fiona lowered her head from the mirror with a sigh. She wasn’t sure what got to her the most, the incessant itching of frayed nerves, or the marks themselves. The blonde wanted to think of herself as indifferent to something so … banal as a loss of beauty. Out in the Commonwealth, people hardly paid much attention to aesthetics, even in friends and lovers. Survivability was paramount. Still, she couldn’t help but feel great loss and shame at having her face disfigured like this.

The muscular figure of Cait wandered into the marked glass behind her. Instinctively meeting the redhead’s gaze for a moment, Fiona averted her forlorn expression quickly. The brawler chuckled and strode up behind the blonde, leaning her head in over the slighter woman’s shoulder.

“Hmm.” She murmured idly, examining the mirror. Fiona raised her head again, tentatively curious. “Gorgeous.” Cait smirked, green eyes locked with silver through the looking glass.

Fiona instantly felt an unwelcome blush rising. “Shut up, you don’t need to coddle me,” The blonde growled sadly, “not when I’ve got these.” She jerked a finger towards the cluster of jagged groves that wove through pale skin.

Cait sighed and turned the blonde in her arms, forcing Fiona to face her fully. For her part, Fiona gazed up at the redhead nervously, chewing her scarred lips. The brawler didn’t say a word, she leaned in and laid a gentle kiss right along Fiona’s scarred cheek, then another, and another. Each burning touch of her lips caressed the blonde’s scars. Fiona might have been imagining it, but the itching in her face seemed to melt away at the redhead’s touch.

“I want you in bed, beautiful.” Cait purred deeply in that luscious accent. Fiona couldn’t help but snort and giggle in a most undignified manner as the redhead pulled her along by the hands.

There was another sort of itch that she quite enjoyed scratching.

**Hobby**

Cait had often wondered what made Fiona tick. The blonde had many a talent and was capable at many things, from building entire settlements from scratch to fighting off hordes of Deathclaws and just about everything in between. It seemed that she could turn her hand or mind to virtually any task. Yet sometimes it felt like the blonde was searching for her true passion.

Recently that seemed to have changed.

Fiona was out in the adjacent work shed that she’d constructed to work on her robots and all manner of creations. She appeared to love to be working on those things, it was a hobby of sorts and one Fiona was very good at, as usual. The sound of tinkering greeted Cait’s ears as she wandered up to the hut to find Fiona hard at work on Ada. The assaultron was missing an arm at the moment, the Survivor was working on the robot’s shoulder joint.

“Nearly done now Ada.” The blonde murmured as she set to work with a blowtorch, eyes shielded by a darkened pair of goggles. Sparks danced around her, illuminating her grease spattered face. Even in this grubby state, even with those vibrant scars that crossed her face, Cait still found the blonde so strikingly beautiful, like a princess or a queen from a comic book she’d read long ago.

She idly remembered brightly coloured pages, still strong though faded through time and wear. She’d read them whenever she could, which was only as often as she’d been able to sneak one into the house, away from her parents’ disapproving gaze. Well, that was in the past now, standing right here, watching the blonde at work, was her present.

Perhaps this was Cait’s hobby, watching Fiona go about her handiwork. God knows Cait could just stand there for hours and watch.

The blue robot turned her head with a whir to regard the blonde. “Thank you for this maintenance ma’am. I am pleased to continue being of use to you.” She offered in thanks. In spite of the robotic monotony of the noise, Cait could definitely read some emotion into Ada’s metallic voice. Maybe it was merely her own hardwiring as a human.

“Aww, think nothing of it Ada.” Fiona smiled wide and leaned over to give the robot a quick kiss on the ‘cheek’ of her faceplate. Ada merely continued to watch as the blonde carried on her work.

“Careful now,” Cait drawled lazily as she stepped into the workshop. Heads human and assaultron turned to greet her. Cait noted with possessive pride that Fiona’s face seemed to light up at the sight of the redhead. “You don’t want to go making me jealous now do yer?”

The blonde laughed easily, a wonderful sound, “Maybe I do,” her pale grey eyes flashed with mischief, “perhaps I plan to run away with Ada.” She flung a lithe arm suggestively around Ada’s torso and curled a leg over the Assaultron’s. For the robots part, Ada sat there stagnant, moving only her head back and forth between the two humans as she followed the conversation.

The brawler folded her strong arms and leaned against the doorway, “That so?” She smirked at the blonde, “can’t imagine yer bot will be as warm to snuggle up with at night is she?”

“I can generate heat throughout my chassis to suit any purpose you might need ma’am.” Ada supplied, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent conversation, or the scowl Cait suddenly sent her way.

Fiona giggled, “I don’t think that’s quite what she meant, Ada.” She offered gently with a sideways glance at Cait, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I doubt you could provide that particular … warmth.”

“In that case, I should remind you that I am fully customisable. I can in all likelihood be outfitted and programmed to suit whatever specific needs you desire of me.” Ada stated matter-of-factly.

Cait snorted.

“Wait, really? You mean like …” Fiona appeared genuinely curious for a few seconds before seeing the wide eyed glare Cait sent her way, “No, never mind Ada.” Her alabaster cheeks flushing profusely, “It was just a joke.” The blonde busied herself with Ada’s arm again, steadfastly avoiding the redhead’s gaze.

“I see, very well then.” Ada said simply and continued to watch Fiona as she reattached the robot’s arm.

Cait stood there watching too, smirking at Fiona’s uncomfortable blush that refused to go down. The blonde caught the redhead’s eyes for a moment, Cait wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, Fiona flushed even more if that were possible.

Cait believed that she had just found another one of her passions, teasing the blonde.

“Pardon me ma’am, but you seem to be suffering from a heightened temperature.” Ada interjected into the relative silence of tinkering. “Perhaps you should take some rest to recuperate?”

“I’m fine thank you Ada.” Fiona muttered, sending an accusing glare Cait’s way. The brawler merely chuckled at the blonde’s discomfort.

In no amount of time at all, Fiona had reattached Ada’s arm and the assaultron had wandered off to test her capabilities. The blonde turned away from Cait as she packed up her tools and spare parts.

“Don’t say a word.” She warned the redhead, raising a screwdriver over her shoulder in warning.

Cait snickered at the threat but held her tongue, for now. She moved right up behind the blonde and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman’s waist, a much safer place to speak, or provoke.

“Never knew you had a thing for bots.” She teased into an ear, Fiona sighed. That blush was never coming down now. “Maybe I should be jealous. I’ll have to watch out for Nick and Curie in future.”

“Shut up,” Fiona swatted Cait on the arm with a wrench irritably, “I was just curious that’s all.”

“Mm hmm.” Cait murmured disbelievingly. She disentangled herself from the blonde and retreated from the workshop. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she turned on the threshold.

“I better head out then. Give you and your metal girlfriend time for some freaky robot sex.”

Cait had to duck fast to dodge the wrench that was hurled straight for her head. Laughing raucously, she ran out quickly before Fiona improved her aim.

Yep, teasing the blonde was certainly a hobby Cait could get used to.

**Argument**

Fiona examined her weapon with due care. Barrel, clean. Sights, good. Ammo, check. It was unnecessary really, she maintained her gear daily and knew that it was all in good shape. Still it never hurt to be careful. A faulty gun could get you killed out in the wastes as surely as a Deathclaw’s talon.

It was probably for the best that she was afflicted by a healthy dose of paranoia.

She adjusted her armour as well, metal shoulder guard strapped to her leather jacket, a gift from a former adversary. Maybe it was a bit too grisly, using clothes taken from the dead, but one had to make do to survive. God knows there were plenty of other people who had gone even further than her, just to live another day in the Commonwealth. The armour she now wore was much too good to pass up. Such was the way of the wasteland.

Just as the blonde woman holstered the pistol and turned to leave, she caught sight of Cait, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking her path. The redhead wore a thinly veiled glare. It was an expression she used whenever she disliked something. It was a face that Fiona didn’t see that often. It was surprising really, given their near polarised views on the world.

“Off out again.” It wasn’t a question. From the tone, Fiona could tell the redhead didn’t approve. Not that she needed to hear the tone, it was always the same whenever Fiona had a mission to do.

“You don’t have to come you know.” The blonde muttered with a weary sigh, well used to the old argument by now.

“I still don’t see why you have to go either.” Cait muttered with a shake of her head.

“Someone has to, not everyone’s as lucky as us you know.” Fiona looked up into green eyes, half-heartedly hoping the brawler would soften, just a little.

“Yeah? And your luck’s gonna run out one of these days” Cait disappointed her yet again, “You really want to throw your life away for a bunch of farmers and scavengers too stupid to take care of themselves?”

Fiona levelled a steely glare at the taller woman. “If it means I’m doing something worthwhile, then yes.” She shot back with venom. “There are people out there who need the Minutemen – need me – to help them.”

Cait sighed, moving closer with a softer expression, “You’re a General aren’t ya? Just order your soldier pals to sort it all out. You don’t need to be on the front lines all the time. We’ve got a good thing here. You really want to risk that?”

“Maybe if you helped, it wouldn’t be so much of a risk! I’m needed Cait, every able body is needed to help keep the Commonwealth safe. I can’t just turn my back on that like you!” Anger seeping into the blonde’s voice, she backed away from the redhead.

Cait chortled, “Yeah, like I’m gonna help you take on the whole Commonwealth! Help you get killed more like. That’s a fight you can’t win.” The redhead shook her head again, almost pitying, “I just wanna live nice and cosy, thank you very much.”

“Of course, and where would you be if I hadn’t been the one to risk myself for you?” Fiona spat right back, almost pleading for the redhead to open her eyes for once, “If I hadn’t helped you get clean, you’d be rotting in a gutter right now, or worse!”

Cait’s gaze narrowed, as much in anger as shame. She didn’t reply for several seconds.

“Don’t think I’m not grateful or nothing.” She drawled out finally, fists clenched as she swallowed the uncomfortable truth. Then she lifted her gaze again, defiant, “But if I’d known back then that you were stupid enough to think that you could solve all the world’s problems, than I’d never have gone with you in the first place.”

Cait took a deep breath then moved forward again, arm reaching out to the blonde, clearly wanting to back out of the fight.

Fiona was riled now though, her facial scars itched maddeningly.

The blonde slapped away the brawler’s outstretched hand. “And what do you live for? What grand design does Cait have to get up and live for each day? At least I’m doing something, trying to make things better! We can’t all drown ourselves in booze or chems!” Fiona yelled, pacing right back up to Cait. Maybe it was over the line, maybe there was no line, but the fog had fallen thick and there was no turning back. “You don’t wanna help, fine! Just stay out of my way.”

The brawler’s eyes darkened, dangerous. She opened her mouth to spout something, then thought otherwise and turned away.

“Fine, go get yourself killed, or whatever.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Fiona rubbed at her eyes in irritation, she couldn’t stay and babysit the Irishwoman’s hurt feelings. She had a job to do, people were counting on her. With an unwanted scowl set firmly in place, she left their ramshackle home without another word to the redhead.

The brawler didn’t follow. For that, Fiona wasn’t sure if she was more relieved to let the matter rest for now, or more disappointed that Cait was once again … Cait.

She knew that Cait didn’t care for fixing all the world’s ills, she was fine with that, she accepted it. In fact, in a way she even admired that about the taller woman, that she could be so carefree and untroubled by the horrors that surrounded them. But Fiona couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just stand by and watch the world fall to pieces, even more so than it already had. She just wished that the redhead could be a little more supportive, that she could care about something other than herself just for once. Was that so much to ask?

**Rescue**

Cait scowled darkly and kicked at a chair, the wooden legs protesting alarmingly against the dirtied tiles. The brawler growled in frustration and ran her hand through wild hair.

She paced up and down the old truck stop that she and Fiona called a home, muttering angrily at nothing in particular. She hated it when the blonde left to go be a superhero for the Commonwealth. She just couldn’t understand it. The pair of them had managed to claw some semblance of a life out of the cruel and unforgiving wasteland. Why would Fiona want to risk throwing all of that away? Why did she care so much? Cait wouldn’t have minded so much if there was even a chance that the blonde could succeed and make a real change, save the world even, but no one person could do all of that, not even one as capable and amazing as Fiona.

Maybe it was something inherently different between them, a bridge that Cait couldn’t, or wouldn’t cross. Maybe it was something that all pre-war people would have done, something that post-war people would never dream of doing.

Or maybe Cait was just afraid.

With a growl, Cait launched her fist into a cabinet, the wooden doors creaking in objection. As the cabinet rocked back and forth to a standstill, Cait made up her mind and ran to grab her gun.

She paced out of the truck stop at speed, knowing that she couldn’t be too far behind the blonde. Fiona had only left a little while ago, the redhead could still catch up with her. Jogging along the broken roads, Cait felt the patter of rainfall upon her from the dark sky. The Irish lass was very much grateful that she had been vaguely paying attention when the blonde had first told her about her latest mission. An old subway station not far from the river, that was where a new planned settlement was. If she hurried, the redhead could catch her in time.

It didn’t take too long for Cait to reach the station, a husk of metal and stone that could barely stand on its own anymore. Still, there was no sign of the blonde. Cait searched around the station, nothing, no tracks, no notes, no indication of anything other than ruins.

Just as the intense fear began to rise within her chest, the sound of gunfire carried its way over to the redhead’s ears. Honing in on it instantly, Cait took off running. She had no idea if the gunfire was even related to Fiona, but the brawler’s chest clenched ever tighter with every bang that pierced the night. The rainfall only seemed to increase in force and magnitude.

The gunshots got nearer, shouting joined them in the air. Cait gripped the shotgun in her hands, ready for anything. She charged round a corner, a group of six men and women hunkered there.

All of them armed, none of them Fiona.

Cait didn’t hesitate to open fire.

She didn’t know who they were, they might have been allies with the Minutemen or even Diamond City security for all Cait cared. They stood in her way and for that, they paid the price. Soon the broken ground was sodden with fresh blood on top of that spilled so long ago.

Heart hammering in her chest, Cait quickly rushed by the still hot corpses. Her eyes frantically searched the ruined husks of ancient buildings all around her for any sign of blonde hair. The downpour threatened to drown out all noise, any cry for help.

“Fiona!” Cait called out to the wind and rain.

Nothing.

Cait ran amongst all the buildings she could get into, looked behind every wall and obstacle. Until at last, she found her.

Fiona lay barely conscious behind a crumbling stone barricade. In her haste to get to the blonde, Cait nearly knocked the stonework down on top of her.

Whispering fearful, frantic promises, the brawler struggled to bring the Fiona back to consciousness. After an agonising wait, the blonde finally came round, gazing about groggily. Her vision unfocussed, failing to settle on the redhead.

“… Cait?” She slurred, “I … I didn’t know you cared …” The blonde struggled out with the weakest wisp of a smile.

“Shut up.” Cait all but growled, stopping herself short of saying something she feared she could never take back. She held the blonde tight for fear that she’d vanish into the rain. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

With that, the redhead gently lifted the blonde into her arms and turned to head home, the rain pounding down on them all the way.

**Care**

“Achoo!” Fiona sneezed for the umpteenth time that day. It wasn’t even midday yet.

The platinum blonde sank deeper into the nest of blankets that cocooned her with a heavy sigh. She weakly rubbed at her silvery eyes, even that simple motion strained and laboured. She wondered if this was some other cruel side effect to having been frozen in stasis for two hundred years, which made her immune system ‘out of date’ so to speak. Right now it felt like every germ and bacteria had been waiting two hundred years to finally strike her down, and they were going to make the most of this opportunity.

In her misery, Fiona barely noticed the soft padding of Cait enter the room, a bowl of something steaming in hand.

“Here,” The redhead drew her attention softly, sitting on the side of the bed, “open wide.” She spooned some of the mixture from the bowl and offered it to the blonde woman.

Fiona eyed the spoon for a moment, fearing anything else strange and foreign in this strange new world might finish her off. “What is it?” She croaked, barely able to say much more.

“Soup, Tato soup.” Cait stated flatly, “didn’t they have soup back in your day?”

The blonde ignored the jibe and, satisfied Cait wasn’t trying to poison her, dutifully opened her mouth with a slight ‘ah’ noise for effect. The redhead gently fed the sick blonde with a smirk and slight shake of her head.

“Can’t believe you. You walk all over Deathclaws and Mirelurks and all kinds of crap, and then you get beat by a little cold.”

Fiona scowled at Cait as fierce as she could muster, which was not a lot. Still she opened her opened her mouth expectantly for another spoonful. Even through her messed up taste buds, or maybe because of that, it was actually quite good. She should get Cait to cook more often. By the time the bowl was emptied, Fiona was feeling a lot less rough.

“Better?” The brawler asked expectantly.

“Better.” Fiona agreed as she settled back down into her nest. “When did you get so good at taking care of people?” She teased, a sure sign her health was improving.

Cait snorted at the jibe, “I had to look after myself in the Combat Zone, no Docs or nurses to patch you back up, or feed you soup when you get the sniffles.” She said the last of it mockingly, earning her a weak kick from beneath the sheets.

“You need to work on your bedside manner. Tell it to me straight, am I going to make it?”

Cait levelled her green gaze at the blonde for a few moments before answering. “Unfortunately … yes.”

Fiona smiled contently and turned in her cocoon to curl up on her side. “Thank you, Nurse Cait.” She yawned wide and shuffled into a better sleeping position. “I’m glad I’ve got you to take care of me.”

Cait didn’t say anything. She sat at Fiona’s side as the blonde drifted off into sleep. Finally she cursed herself a sentimental fool and took the bowl and left, though not before placing a gentle kiss on Fiona’s head.

**Show**

Fiona stretched her neck gingerly as she eased against her sore spots. It was always the morning after a fight when she seemed to feel it most. She knew the science behind it, what with adrenaline taking control during the event, blinding her body to the pain and strain of battle. Still, it seemed bizarre to her and more than a little annoying.

She padded over to the counter at the front of the old truck stop and took a seat at one of the bar stools. Groggily she wiped at her eyes and banished the lingering sleep.

The sound of soft footsteps greeted her ears as Cait approached from behind. Fiona smirked lazily as a pair of strong arms snaked around her body in an easy hug and she pouted earnestly when the hug ended all too soon. Turning her accusing gaze to the redhead, Fiona noted with idle delight that the brawler was wearing the blonde’s jacked over a plain white tank top. Cait just walked on and out the door, throwing a teasing smile and a wink at the blonde.

Intrigue rising, Fiona watched as Cait strode all the way to the decontamination arch that stood proud in the centre of the forecourt. The brawler took off the jacket and threw it over a nearby worktable, revealing powerful arms, covered with a smattering of freckles and scars. Arching her brow slightly, the blonde continued to watch the redhead with open curiosity.

Cait seemed to be smirking to herself, an idle little grin that she wore whenever she was planning something mischievous. The brawler pressed the switch to the arch and the cleansing waters began to spray thin air. Cait stepped under the arch and into the waters path.

Fiona’s jaw fell open. It very quickly became apparent that Cait was wearing her tank top, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. The Irish lass spun around ever so slowly, as if very aware of the silvery gaze transfixed on her body. She leant back and let the water rinse through her hair. Then, her head flung forwards, flinging water across the forecourt. Her gleaming emerald gaze instantly locked with Fiona’s through drenched, deep red locks.

Fiona’s heart stopped for a second.

Then in an instant, Cait shifted her gaze and returned to her cleaning under the arch, less of a shower, much more of a dance. Fiona couldn’t look away.

When Cait finished her ‘shower’, she deactivated the arch and picked up the jacket, flinging it over her shoulder.

She stalked back into the station, every step a confident prowl. Smirking, her eyes locked with Fiona’s heatedly for another moment, she winked an emerald eye once, and then carried on her way back to the bedroom, water still dripping from her every step.

Fiona almost tripped over the stool in her haste to follow.

**Fantasy**

Fiona wandered into their bedroom, pausing at the threshold with a smile as she took in the rather bizarre sight before her.

Cait was lounging on the bed, eagerly engrossed in one of the many comic books they’d found in their adventures together. So fascinated with the still vibrant pages she didn’t seem to even notice Fiona standing there.

When they had first stumbled across one of the ancient books, the brawler had been curiously fascinated. Before she had truly gotten to know the redhead, it had seemed to Fiona that the Irishwoman was only interested in fighting, drinking, drugs and sex, not necessarily in that order, or separately. So this revelation was quite the surprise to Fiona, who promptly set about teasing the brawler. Naturally the redhead had pretended that she wasn’t really interested in the comics, and naturally the blonde didn’t believe her for a second.

A twinge of sadness crossed Fiona’s face as she remembered when she had finally managed to get Cait to open up about her obsession. The redhead had had her own comic books many years before, back when she was a desperately unhappy child with her parents. As Cait had told it, she’d managed to sneak a comic or two into the house and read them every night she could get away with it. Until her parents had found them of course, and ripped the bright pages to ribbons.

Maybe it was a form of pity on her behalf, but since hearing that story, Fiona had quietly made it her mission to seek out and collect these comics. She hadn’t told the redhead of her quest, she had a distinct feeling that the Irish woman would take it as a wound to her pride. Whether or not Cait would actually be grateful if she found out about her mission, or even if she suspected anything already, the blonde couldn’t rightly say.

Regardless, the redhead had latched onto the steady yet sudden influx of reading material. At first she’d tried to pass it off as something akin to morbid curiosity, her interest in what the foolish people before the war did for entertainment. Fiona had let her have her pride with a smile.

In time though, the brawler had relaxed somewhat and had taken to reading them more openly, often at night before sleeping.

Which was were Fiona found her lover now, completely lost in a long forgotten fantasy. The blonde tilted her head to get a better look at the cover: ‘Grognak the Barbarian and the horror of the Demon-Princess-Dragon’. Well, it was certainly a unique title if nothing else.

The blonde had to stifle a fond chuckle, here her lover was, a warrior of pure muscle and ferocity, completely enraptured in a children’s comic book. She had the distinct impression that if she entered the room, stark naked, Cait wouldn’t even notice. She wasn’t about to put that to the test however.

Instead she folded her arms and strode into the room, standing at the foot of the bed. It was a whole ten seconds before the redhead looked up.

“What?” The brawler drawled with a light glare at the interruption.

“Isn’t it past your bed time?” The blonde smirked, which grew into a chuckle at Cait’s blush.

“Fuck off.” She muttered moodily before raising her comic and burying her head in her fantasies. Fiona would have bet everything she owned that she saw reddening cheeks behind those pages.

Fiona shook her head with another chuckle. What was the old saying? If you can’t beat them, join them. She walked around the bed and lifted one of Cait’s arms. Ignoring the redhead’s glare, Fiona swooped under the arm and comic and proceeded to make herself comfortable lying on top of the brawler.

“What are you doing?” Cait muttered irritably.

“It’s past my bedtime.” Fiona faked a yawn, “Well? Read me a story then.”

“Fuck off.” Cait swore again, though she made no effort to shake off the troublesome blonde.

Fiona smirked at her lover and turned her head to look up at the comic. Grognak was in the midst of a climactic battle with the so called Demon-Princess-Dragon. At least that’s what Fiona assumed he was fighting, it certainly looked like a dragon, it had red, glowing eyes and a band that looked suspiciously like a tiara was locked around one of the dragon’s horns.

Intrigued somehow, Fiona picked up the story and read along with her lover. The pair lay there in comfortable silence, at least until Cait turned a page before Fiona was finished.

“Hang on, I hadn’t finished that part!”

Cait sighed dramatically, but dutifully turned back a page.

“Ok, I’m done now.” Fiona smiled ever so sweetly up at the redhead a few seconds later.

All she got in return was an animalistic growl as Cait bite through the air just in front of Fiona’s nose.

The blonde chuckled and turned back to the colourful pages, keeping pace this time with the redhead.

They soon fell asleep with the comic laying across them, each lost in dreams to their own little fantasies.

**Normal**

It’s odd how life could be so different to your expectations.

At least that’s how Cait felt when she thought about such things. It seemed strange to think about how her ideas of a ‘normal’ life were about as far removed from normal as you could get.

When she was a child, her idea of a normal life was a happy family, just her and her parents. Yet in fact, she found herself being ignored, even abused by those parents. After enough time, that became her normal. She reasoned that things were just meant to be like that. For a long time that was the only life she ever knew and she stopped questioning it. As cruel as it was, that was her whole world.

Then, she was sold into slavery, a shock collar slapped around her neck and she was dragged away in tears to a life even worse. It was surprising how that eventually became ‘normal’ for Cait too. When she finally managed to escape, she stumbled into the Combat Zone, and so knocking the living hell out of strangers and having the same done back to her became a new normal. She grew to feel that fighting and pain would be her whole life. It was tough, it was harsh and often cruel, but it was all that she’d ever known. All that ever changed were the angry faces around her.

And then, she’d left the Combat Zone, whether by luck or chance, she wasn’t sure. Her life was bartered into the possession of a blonde adventurer. At first she thought it was just the next rotation on the broken wheel of her life. But she soon noticed that something was different. There was still the fighting of course, the getting shot at and risking her life, but now she didn’t go through it all alone. And she didn’t go through it all because someone told her to, forced her to, or dangled a meagre reward in front of her weary, naïve, stupid eyes. Now she had a reason. Now she had someone to rely on.

Somehow, that became her new normal too.

She wasn’t completely delusional, she was still very much aware that her ‘normal’ life was, by all accounts, completely bizarre.

Normal for most people was working in a field or on a machine all the day.

Normal for Cait was adventuring through all kinds of pre-war ruins, getting shot at by raiders, robots, super mutants and more besides.

For most people normal was coming home to their loved ones at the end of the day.

For Cait … well, that one actually counted for her too now. Though she was still not sure how that had happened.

Not that she was complaining though, and there was certainly nothing to complain about in that department she thought with an idle smirk. Yet she couldn’t help but feel that this all somehow a dream, some idle fancy brought on by one too many suspect drinks or one too many knocks to the head. She’d certainly had her fair share of both throughout the years.

It wasn’t like she’d done anything to deserve it either. As bad as her life had been up to this point, Cait had done some pretty terrible things and had gone to some pretty dark places at some point or other in her life. It was how she’d survived so long. So how she’d managed to stumble into Fiona’s life was beyond her comprehension, but she was more than grateful for it.

They even had a home of their own to go back to at the end of a weary day. An old Red Rocket truck stop, refurbished at no small amount of effort by Fiona to make it into a functional home. While it was certainly no mansion, it was a damn sight better than all the previous ‘homes’ she’d had in her wild life.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses however, they had their bad days. Sometimes they’d argue and fight, say the things they knew would cut the other most. Cait could never see why Fiona had to put her neck on the line for complete strangers time after time, and Fiona didn’t seem to understand why Cait was so set against her risking her neck doing thankless work for the Commonwealth. It was always a minefield that they stumbled into together.

They always made up though, in the end. Each time they fought, some part of Cait feared that it would be the last. That the wheel would roll on once again and she would be left alone. Yet each and every time, they came back together all the stronger. Of all the ‘normal’ lives Cait had lived, this was the one that took the most getting used to.

And it was the one that she’d die to hold on to.

It took her a while to get used that fact, and even longer to admit it to herself. When she finally did, she struggled to put her finger on exactly why though. Maybe it was simply that she was finally free, that she had control over her own life for once. Or maybe it was something else, maybe it was that a certain blonde, pre-war relic was here with her. Fiona certainly seemed to brighten her life somehow.

She still struggled to get her head around it all truth be told. If anyone had told Cait years ago that one day she’d have a warm place of her own to call home and a gorgeous, loving partner to share the days and nights with, she’d have clocked them. Again, she wasn’t complaining, far from it. It was just a far cry from any normal that she’d ever experienced, much less expected from life. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever figure out exactly how it had all fallen into place so perfectly, or even if she deserved any of this.

Hell, she knew that she didn’t deserve any of this. There was too much blood and pain on her hands for that. It wasn’t that she cared about the morality of it or karma or any of that nonsense. Somehow she led a great life now, but she couldn’t put her finger on how she’d managed to get it.

Maybe she was thinking about it all wrong. It probably didn’t matter what life should have been, what she deserved or what anyone else had. What mattered was that she was here, she was alive, and that she had Fiona to share it all with.

It was theirs, and it was their normal.


End file.
